“Well, shit,” he said suddenly.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Cam’s got a sat phone. Maybe he’ll answer.” He did, on the first ring.
“Cam, it’s Dave.”
Cam was so delighted to get a call from his commander I could hear his voice from three feet away. “No kidding? It’s really you? How the hell are ya?”
“More important, how are you?”
“Doing okay. Cole says to tell you reception sucks in the lower part of town, where we’ve been for the past hour or so. We’re headed up to Pub Na Mehelic now.” He gave Dave directions, which he passed on to me.
I rolled down the window. As cold as it was, Jack had been banging his paw against it for the past ten minutes. Now he shoved his head through the opening, his tail slamming rhythmically into the seat between Dave and me to demonstrate how delighted he was. And why wouldn’t he be? Skofja Loka emerged from the night like a gingerbread town, its quaint old buildings and narrow streets reminding me of something out of Grimms’ fairy tales. Which, I reminded myself sternly, often ended in murder.
Mehelic’s was a two-story, white-painted structure with the broad dimensions of a barn. Wow, they take their drinking seriously here, I thought as I parked in the small lot west of the building. Eventually I realized the second story was an art gallery, at which point all the wine they pushed on the first floor made a lot more sense.
I left Jack in the car. “What can I say?” I told him when he gave me a pitiful stare. “People don’t want dog hair in their martinis.” We left the window cracked, locked the doors, and headed toward the intricately stenciled front door.
“Aw hell,” I said as I walked through, looking back to see if Dave had the same reaction.
He was shaking his head in disbelief. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.
I had to nod. Our ears were not deceiving us. Somewhere within the depths of the pub, Cole was singing.
I edged farther inside, hugging the brown paneled wall in the hope that he wouldn’t see me right away and demand that I join him. Fat chance. The place was as open as a high school gym, with tables covered in yellow vinyl marching in neat rows toward the empty space at the back of the room where Cole stood. Since the place offered no stage he stood on a chair. Crooning into an unlit candle. No microphone. No karaoke machine. Just Cole, belting out the words to Lionel Richie’s “Endless Love.”
“Two hearts that beat as one/Our lives have just begun,” he sang. Then he saw us.
He jumped off the chair, Cole style. Meaning he put one foot on the back and overbalanced it until it tipped gently to the floor, at which point he soft-shoed to our spot, where we stood in mute horror, unable to retreat because the bar, a long, scarred counter that made you think a few guys might’ve busted their heads against it in the past, blocked our escape. Behind it stood a gray-bearded bartender who seemed to be enjoying the show much more than we were. At least, I thought I heard him chuckle as I whispered, “How drunk are you?”
Cole grabbed me around the waist and danced a few steps with me before I could pull myself free. He said, “I’m as sober as a Baptist on Sunday! But now that you’re here . . .” He wiggled his eyebrows cheerfully.
“I thought you were going to keep a low profile!” I hissed. “You sounded so serious on the phone!”
“Well, I realized if this is the last day of my life, I didn’t want to spend it cooped up in a closet while I bit my nails and wished I’d taken the time to have at least one deep relationship.” He stopped, looked into my eyes. “Okay, I do wish that. In fact . . .” He pulled me into his arms, dipped me until my back creaked. But before his lips could descend to mine I slipped my hand between them. Which meant he laid a wet one on my palm. “Not cool, Jaz,” he said. “You’re always supposed to kiss the dying man.”
“You’re so full of shit, I’m drawing flies! Where’s Cam?”
He lifted me to my feet, nodded to the far edge of the bar. “Over there.”
“Where? I can’t. Oh.” Now I saw him. Well, his feet at least. They rested, upside down, on one of the stools where the bar turned a corner. Occasionally the feet waved back and forth, the heels nudging each other as if to remind themselves of a good joke.
I looked at Dave as he led us toward his sergeant. Every step he took seemed to draw him up straighter, snap his shoulders closer to his back. It was like watching him try on a new uniform. And it fit perfectly.
Upon stopping at the feet, we found the rest of Cam spread out on four more stools, enjoying a back rub from an attractive, brunette barmaid wearing snow boots, a plaid, knee-length skirt, and a white peasant blouse.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dave demanded, the command so prominent in his voice that we all came to attention, including the bartender and an older couple sitting at a table near the door. Luckily nobody else shared the room with us at the moment. I should’ve felt relieved. After all, we’d beaten Vayl and Disa to the guys. But Dave’s irritation at Cam made my stomach clench. This was no time for infighting.
Dave’s right-hand man hadn’t felt Cole’s need to avoid the sauce. The tankard in his hand sloshed ale all over the floor as he jerked sideways and rolled off the stools, still clutching the straw he’d been using to drink from it between his teeth. I would’ve had to check the instant replay to tell if he hit his butt. Because as soon as he caught sight of Dave he bolted upright, spitting out the straw, throwing the mug to one side as if it had grown spines.
He didn’t go so far as to salute, but Cam did say respectfully, “What was I doing? Well, I was availing myself of the local masseuse, sir.”
“Are you in the area on business?”
Slow blink, followed by a slight twinkle. Cam was beginning to realize his commander had slogged his way back from the brink. “Yes, I am.”
“Then am I correct in stating that you are representing your country by lounging on your face in a bar?”
Cam looked right into Dave’s eyes. He pursed his lips, glanced up and off to his right, as if he was solving a physics problem. “That’s about the size of it,” he said with a lemme-have-it grin. “In my defense?”
“As if there was one.” Dave snorted.
“Cole did say we might die today. So I thought, you know.”
“That you’d like to buy it without any kinks in your muscles?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yessir!” Cam pulled his shoulders back so far the buttons nearly popped off his plaid hunting jacket.
Dave sidled in so close that he and Cam literally touched noses. Cole and I had to move in to hear, which we did as a unit. It was almost like a tights-clad choreographer off to one side had begun a count. One, two, three, four, and shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, stop. Shut up. Gape a little but don’t interrupt. Because Dave is, by golly, on a tear.
He ripped Cam up one side and down the other. It took three and a half minutes. I timed it. At the end, Cam, who looked even more dangerous without a beard to hide his scars, could barely suppress a grin. But he managed to stare straight ahead as Dave finished.
“And if I ever hear you faced death with your ass pointed to the ceiling fans again, I will personally wrap your face around my fist and mail it home to your mother. You got that?”
“Yessir. Um, sir?”
“What!”
“There’s a vampire behind you. Actually, two.”
“You think I don’t know that? I’m a Sensitive, you dipshit!”
“Yessir.”
They don’t do “sir” in Spec Ops as a rule. Doesn’t really fit their MO. So I figured Cam had just set a world record. But I was glad he’d mentioned the vamps. Because I didn’t think Dave had sensed them. He was too pissed. Plus, he hadn’t developed his abilities the way I had. And I’d only just realized we had company.
Despite the fact that we’d been expecting them, Vayl and Disa brought a hush to the room. Part of it was their powers. When they s
truck you at low boil, like now, you just felt as if you’d been joined by a couple of movie stars. But, unlike the real masters of stage and screen, they weren’t regular people underneath all the glitz. If you ran up to them for an autograph, who knew? You might get a soul-shattering kiss that ended with blood on your lips and the feeling that your world had just tipped sideways for good. Or you might get your chin torn off.
Most of it was Vayl. He stood with his feet spread, hands on his hips holding back the heavy coat he wore to reveal a pair of faded jeans and a black silk shirt that made my mouth water. He exuded personality. It practically jumped from his dancing eyes, his smiling lips. Disa, standing slightly behind him, said something that made him laugh out loud.
Cole leaned over and whispered, “Is Vayl high?”
Cirilai had quieted since its initial attack, giving me time to study them both closely.
Looking at her, understanding now what kind of power she can bring to the table, I can practically smell the kedazzle she’s pushing at him. Could it be his resistance has finally worn to nothing? Or is he truly buying this setup? Either story would explain why Cirilai fubarred me.
I rubbed my left hand with my right and tried to figure out what to do next. Then Disa stepped apart from him, and I felt a glimmer of hope.
Because she had his cane.
I was certain she’d given it to the psychic Erilynn, so that she could read Vayl’s past, and his future. But now that I saw it in her hand, I realized Vayl must’ve been close to the mark too. Shield or weapon, she meant to use it to her advantage. So if I could get it away from her . . .
Disa held the cane like Vayl had when we’d first met her, ramming the tip into the floor as if she was claiming new territory. She twirled it back and forth, her long fingers caressing the blue jewel that topped it in a way that struck me as obscene. The tigers that adorned the wood of the sheath looked wrong to me. Then I realized they were caked in a dark substance that filled in what should be finely carved edges. I didn’t need a lab to tell me what it was either.
I pulled Grief, transforming it to vamp-killer mode as I strode forward. I figured the direct approach would work the best. Grab the cane. Take Disa down. Hurt her bad enough that she begged to be released from Vayl. It wasn’t a pretty plan, but I could see it working.
Disa took me by surprise. She raised the cane, said, “Interri lakkirm tradom!” and Cirilai struck, spiking into my hand like a deck nail, taking me to my knees.
“Let her be, Disa!” Vayl strode toward me. Lifted me to my feet.
“Keep her away from me, then,” Disa replied. Her pout would’ve been more comfortable on a four-year-old, which is maybe why it dissipated so quickly. But her power, damn, that was fully mature. At least now I knew what had hit me during the battle.
“Wait a second! You knew about the fight with Samos!” I accused her.
“Of course. No one comes through my borders without my knowledge.”
“So you twisted Vayl’s power through his cane into his ring just when I was at my most vulnerable. You nearly got me and Dave killed, you piece of shit!”
She gave me one of her careless shrugs, topping it off with an evil smile as I lunged at her and Vayl stopped me. He’s mine now, she mouthed as he grabbed me around the waist with one arm while he buried the fingers of his other hand in my hair. He pulled me to his chest and lowered his lips to my ear. “Trust me,” he murmured so softly I could almost believe I’d imagined it.
But Cassandra had urged me to follow that same course earlier. So hard to do. Just let go of your fears and totally believe. Especially when you’ve been burned so badly that the scars still wake you up at night.
“Vayl! How did you find us?” It was Cole. Sounding über-pissed. Vayl pulled upright, though he still held me in the crook of his arm.
“It is the most amazing technological breakthrough,” Vayl enthused. “It turns out your phone emits a satellite signal that my phone can pick up and locate on its internal map when I punch in a code given to me by the company that made them. The operator was most helpful after I, how do you say, turned on the charm.”
Cole clenched his fists. “I am going to kick your ass.”
“Now, Cole,” Disa said, stepping forward with two small clicks of her heels and one big clunk of the cane. “Is that any way to speak to your father?”
As Cole gaped like a toddler at his first circus, Vayl let me go and turned to Disa, his eyes brightening into high beams as he said, “This is your surprise? Ahh, Disa, after all these years. You have finally followed through on your vow. And the other boy?” His eyes roamed the room. “Let me just savor this moment. There are, after all, so many from which to choose. Will it be David or the bartender? Or one of those two gentlemen?”
He motioned to a couple of men just walking in. One topped six feet by at least a couple of inches. He walked with his barrel of a chest at full inflate, emphasizing the impression that he was a supercilious bastard. The other looked young enough to be his student, a slope-shouldered sloucher whose glaring eyes seemed to question everything they saw. He looked familiar for some reason, but I would’ve let it go if I hadn’t noticed Cole suddenly do an emotion dump and back up to the bar.
Disa put her hand on Vayl’s arm, raising a sudden urge in me to strangle her. “My psychic said we would find him in Cole’s presence. And that all would be made clear at that juncture. Is it not a blissful feeling to be re-united with your youngest son at last?”
While Disa sweet-talked my sverhamin, I moved to Cole’s side. Though part of me still watched Vayl as the bitch-queen poured on charm I hadn’t realized she possessed, the rest centered on Cole’s still, thoughtful stance.
“What is it?” I asked in a low voice, making room for Dave and Cam as they scooted in to hear the conversation as well.
“Those two men who just came in?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“The one just sitting down now, the small guy facing us? That’s Petrov Kublevsky.”
Aha, so that’s where I’ve seen the face. “Didn’t he kill—”
“The retired M5 agent Iaine Wilson, yeah. Him among a dozen others we can prove, including, most recently, Larainne Delvan.”
“I didn’t know she was one of ours.”
“No, but somehow he did. This is the first time he’s been out of Russia since he slit her throat.”
“So he’s your mark?”
“No. But while I was waiting for mine to show, I spent a helluva lot of time on the laptop. Just saw this guy’s mug not five hours ago plastered all over the terminate-on-sight page.” Oh crap.
Disa screamed, a ladylike shriek of surprise as the cane she’d been holding suddenly leaped out of her hands and burst into green-tinted flame. It flew to a spot less than a foot from my crowd, flipped itself to horizontal, and began to spin.
“What the hell?” asked Cam.
“I don’t know!” gasped Disa. “It just jumped out of my hands.” She wrapped her paws around Vayl’s arm and fluttered her lashes at him. “What do you think it could be doing?”
“Perhaps it knows who my eldest son is?” he guessed.
“What are you up to, Disa?” I demanded.
The glitter in Vayl’s eyes told me I was on the right track.
“I am innocent in this!” she screeched. “It’s performing on its own!”
“So you’ve discovered a new variation on Spin the Bottle? Kids don’t play that one anymore, you know. They’re too freaked about herpes.”
“No!” she exclaimed. “Vayl’s sword must know something about his son. It’s just as Erilynn foretold. She said once we found Badu, Hanzi’s identity would be made clear.”
“Did you rip her face off right after she spoke those words for you, or did you give her some time to elaborate?” I drawled.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Disa’s voice began to climb the I’m-getting-pissed scale. The line at her throat was also bright red, just this side of spl
itting.
“Drop the cane and the pretense, Disa. We both know you’re conning him again.”
“You interfering little snake!”
“Kill me and Vayl’s going to be one sad little vamp. Generally they get that way when their avhars bite the big one, don’t they, Disa? And we can’t have Vayl sad, today of all days. So what are you going to do?”
Clear, oily fluid began to ooze down her throat. Dave’s hand inched toward the Beretta under his jacket. Out the corner of my eye I saw the older couple slink out of the room. Why couldn’t all bystanders be that smart?
Deciding I didn’t have time for Disa to waffle any longer, I gave the cane a kick. It flipped end over end, the flames extinguishing as it crashed into the ceiling. It plunked to the floor with an anticlimactic bounce that, thankfully, didn’t break any pieces off.
Disa threw her head back, the awful brain-colored beak squeezing from her throat. Two black antennae snaked out of the opening it caused and slid up her cheeks, enfolding her temples and forehead in their awful embrace. Then the beak opened and the tentacles erupted from it, just as Blas and Dave had described, like eels leaping from a communal cave. They waved around beside Vayl’s head, a horror-movie aura foreshadowing our future if I couldn’t break their bond.
To give him credit, Vayl didn’t budge a centimeter, though anyone else on earth would’ve taken one look, screamed like a girl, and begun digging a hole to China. He went as still as if someone had snapped his spine. But I knew better, could feel his powers build like the electricity moments before a thunderstorm hits. Be careful! I wanted to scream. Kill her and you’re a goner too!
“You freaks need to take it outside!” I didn’t realize the bartender had pulled a Baikal shotgun out from behind the counter and aimed it at Disa until, from the corner of my eye, I saw Cam yank his Mark 23 from inside his coat. He yelled, “Drop it!” while Dave pulled his own sidearm.
At the same time the Deyrar leaped on top of the bar and whipped her tentacles at the bartender’s face.
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